A Saddening World
by par'carpedium
Summary: AU. Asami and Takaba meet in another time. Rated M to be safe in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Author Notes: I started writing this fic at least 3 years ago, left it alone, and I've just recently started to look at it again. _

_I do want to point out that though I am a history buff in general, I am in no shape or form incredibly knowledgeable about East-Asian studies. I apologize if I offend someone who knows more. I'm trying to stay vague on the time period and those sorts of details, but I have done some research. I think its good to stay vague, because personally, if I explained everything it wouldn't be a fanfic — it'd be a textbook. Also, it seems I can't find a specific time period or year that perfectly suits this story's requirements. However, if I do write something horribly inaccurate, feel free to message me. If it doesn't interfere with the plot, I'll change it :)_

_Sorry this note is so long(at least for me it is...i hope you haven't skipped through it) Just had to point a few things out._

_Rated M just to be safe. _

And I'd also like to thank my beta **Midnight Monochrome** who whipped this story into shape. I seriously couldn't have done it without her awesomeness. You rock!

* * *

**A Saddening World**

**Strangers are Like Friends**

In the City Fields

In the city fields

contemplating cherry-trees

_Strangers are like friends_

_-Issa_

It was when he had woken up that he realized he had been sleeping for a long time. He sighed in annoyance, pushing himself into the maple tree he rested on. In his sleepy haze, he picked up his brushes and scrolls, dusted off his once white robe and winced when he stood to stand.

_Cramps, _he cursed in his head.

Then he noticed what was taking place not far from him, and by instinct, he hid behind the large maple tree, peering from behind its broad base.

He could tell the men he saw were not from his small village or even any neighboring ones. Their silken robes and proud horses told him that they were from the capital, possibly nobles.

Yet, it was interesting to find those men of distinguished birth huddled around an old man no richer than himself, a man he was familiar with: Itou. Despite his shabby appearance, Itou was the owner of the single most successful brothel in the capital. He knew him because he was a regular at the inn he entertained at. He was a wrinkled old man, but he was dignified. He had worked for everything in his life.

Peeking from his hiding place, he noticed brown patches and red liquid dripping from Itou's mouth.

Sensing the danger, he sunk down further in the tall grass behind the maple tree to escape detection. He strained his ears to make out what these men were saying to Itou, catching snippets of the conversation.

"He's not going to budge it seems — "

"Asami says this old man does have the shipment — "

"Why won't he talk then — ?"

"Stop! Look over there!"

_Had they seen him?_ He suddenly felt sick. He could hear his pulse, the tension in his body rising. He cautiously followed their eyes with his own, and realized they were not looking at him. They were looking behind. _At what? _

Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself slightly from the maple's wide trunk to lay low in the dense bushes. The consistent rhythm of the horses' hooves slowly rose in volume and watched as a man appeared from the distance.

The man was definitely someone of high birth, perhaps directly in the king's court. His finely woven silk clothing, and regal aura confirmed the young man's suspicions. Yet, he knew this man was bad news with one good look at that face.

A good face, Takaba grudgingly thought. A face that was sculpted and handsome, but had serpentine, golden irises that burned into Itou's, as a serpent who glared at his prey. The man stopped his horse with effortless grace, and remained silent. After a few tense moments, a brave noble warily finally addressed him.

"He said nothing, Asami."

_So he is Asami_… He figured as much.

Ignoring the noble, the snake-like man, casually looked at Itou, as though the man was not currently a bloody mess.

"Where is my shipment?"

Itou stayed silent.

He noticed the nobles surrounding Itou were angered by this action, but Asami stayed silent.

He casually noted, "Itou, I advise you to speak with me. The shipment you were supposed to handle on my behalf was as expensive as it would be profitable. I will remind you how unpleasant it would be if your only surviving relative, you granddaughter — " He ceased listening to Asami for the slightest moment as he reflected on this information. _The smiling girl who always rested on her grandfather's shoulder when she listened to him play music in the inn? That sweet little girl? _" — found that her precious grandfather was dead and his brothel in my control. Tell me Itou, how nice would it be to see her face painted like a cheap whore? I know some of your clients like them_ young_."

Takaba shuddered.

The man meant business. He could not even begin to describe the fear and pain on Itou's face, how betrayed and disturbed he looked. He noticed how slowly the proud Itou sucuumbed to the terror that was Asami. It was a shame to see him so broken. Itou was a good man.

But the scene spoke to him. Something so foreign, but so natural, so close, yet so far, something deep in the core of his being told him he must remember this scene forever, take a picture of it in his mind. He slowly drew out his brush and a new scroll from inside his clothing.

Dipping his brush in ink he began to paint the scene before him. Years of experience and discipline had allowed him to perfect this art, and what he was watching behind the maple tree was slowly coming alive on the paper. He drew the fallen Itou as he thought of the future of his granddaughter, the nobles who looked and whispered amongst themselves watching the scene, and the serene forest landscape that he came out here to paint in the first place.

He last began to draw Asami, his broad shoulders and devilish smirk as Itou told him the location of his shipment. He began on those piercing eyes and then his blood ran cold.

Asami was not looking at Itou.

No, those golden eyes were peering into him, as though they were expecting him to give up what was behind his own. Time stopped. He watched in horror as the devilish smirk grew wider.

Not waiting for the snake to come closer, he grabbed his things and ran. _I will not be caught by this man,_ he thought to himself as he scurried deep into the forest.

Asami frowned when he saw the boy he smirked at flee quickly, clumsily packing a scroll and ink materials in his robe. They seemed important.

It was a pity the boy had seen such a business deal. Asami had learned that witnesses were bad in the sort of life he lived. He sighed. "Itou, I am done with you now." With those words he effortlessly mounted his horse, his men swiftly following his lead. Itou only needed some encouragement to do what he wanted _but who was this boy? _He steered his horse towards the direction the boy ran. _No matter who you are_, Asami thought, _I will find you_...

* * *

Hitched.

At this moment these were the only words that he could associate with his breathing. He didn't know how long he had been running. When that man looked at him, it had sent such chills down his spine that instinct told him to run. He did, however, manage to take his materials with him. He held his hand on his heart — it was where he put them just so if anyone stabbed him there, he could die with his artistic endeavors. Remembering his situation, he put more effort into his running, to the touch of the rock hitting his sandals, the heat coming off of him threatening him to explode. Branches and the gentle breeze brushed against his body, but he pushed on forward. He had not been in the right frame of mind to think to run towards the village, but at this point it didn't matter to him.

He was safe.

Until he heard the clamoring of horses...

* * *

Asami hadn't been able to see him clearly from behind the maple tree and could only catch chestnut hair from the chase that followed.

_Strange_, he thought. Hair like that was unusual in this area.

He grinned in delight as the boy noticed their presence. He even slowed his pace to wonder at the reaction more. After a few moments, he finally decided to put the boy's running on halt forcing him towards a cliff. He could hear the rushing water below.

As the boy was noticing now what he had gotten himself into, Asami waited patiently for the fear that anyone would have between a rock and a hard place.

He watched the boy's hair under the rays of the sun, and noticed how truly beautiful this boy was up close. He had bright eyes and lovely creamy skin, with sensuous, pouty lips. This face reminded him of a certain man he knew at the palace, but this beauty was exotic rather than classic.

But something drew him to this boy. But not the face. He'd seen a pretty one. It was rather that look he gave him, that perplexing look. This boy was not scared. He was smiling, grinning actually, and there was a mischievous look in his eyes. Asami had tried to peer into them before, but now they showed themselves fully.

It was though the boy was telling him 'You lose.'

Before he could fully understand what that look entailed, the boy as without a second thought jumped off the cliff. Asami goaded his horse to take him to the edge, pausing when he saw the triumphant look on the boy's face, as he hung on one of the numerous rocks melded into the cliff.

Though they were only strangers, this boy spoke to him. He would make sure this was not their last encounter.

He had not lost. The game had only begun. He remembered seeing the boy for the first time, catching him peeking the frame created by his fingers. _A viewfinder, huh?_ For once in a very long time, he was excited.

_Who was this boy?_

_

* * *

_

_"_Takaba Akihito", the innkeeper said. "His family is a group of entertainers. Though I would not recommend his singing or dancing, he is rather exceptional at the reciting of poetry. He can play many instruments as well, though specifically his erhu is magnificent. He plays here every evening."

Asami thanked the blushing waitress for his sake.

What a small village. He was too far from the palace. He resolved to finish the deal with Itou tonight and back soon. For now he listened to the innkeeper who seemed to know the boy.

"His paintings are a beauty as well. He studied in Shanghai for a couple of years. Pretty face. I'll show you him when he comes to play for the guests today. Hmmm. He is rather late..."

_He would be here tonight?_ Asami took pleasure in this new development. He'd wait for this Takaba.

* * *

At this point and time Takaba was very annoyed. He had hurt his pinky finger from hanging on that damn rock and it pulsated in agony at the memory. Not to mention he was soaking wet.

"Curse that Asami" was a mantra he recited in his head. Didn't that man realize all he had to go through just because he _had_ to feign interest? He sighed, trying to look at the possible good in the situation. He would have to wash his clothes. He had to recite poetry now (which he hated) because of his finger. That's right. Be positive.

He began to walk faster as if he had a specific target or place he urgently needed to get to. He felt every tree branch that snapped under his feet, every grain of dirt caught by the wind by the action of his swift hurried movements. He had been angry at the Asami man before but his anger held no mercy any longer. As it spiraled out of control, it held him captive in its embrace.

His father always told him art took passion. He said passion came from discipline. Hours and hours of poetry recitation, dance, music — everything except what he really had passion for. Painting. He loved it more than anything.

He had told his father. What did that do? _Sent him to Chang'an for three years to learn Chinese instruments_, he thought bitterly. That was until he realized he was free there. Free to paint as he pleased. He found a teacher and he learned so much. He was into his fourth year when he got the message. That his mother had passed away.

Never had he felt as lonely as the trip home. His father couldn't take his mother's death well either. He died from a broken heart a month after her death.

He left him and Hana to survive on there own.

He could never return to Chang'an. Hana was too young to be married then, and he was the only one left who could support her. He remembered the first time he took his father's place at the local inn. The way the erhu he learned so well felt so unfamiliar in his fingers. Or was he the foreign one?

Nevertheless, he played it.

For Hana.

He wasn't walking anymore. Instead, he was lying in the cool evening grass, looking into the sky. Though it had been hard, he was happy now. Hana was engaged. Yes they struggled and Hana would continue to because she married for love, but she too was happy. With that pleasant thought on his mind, he trudged on home.

The village where Takaba lived was spacious, but empty. Most of the people around were travelers trying to reach the capital by the mountain pass. Farmland crowded this place, not people. He nodded to the workers in the rice fields as he passed by.

He was in the village now. Safe. The once bright sky that had greeted him this morning in the woods had faded into dark night. He hurried down the village path because he knew he was late to work.

When he reached his humble abode, he saw Hana at the front door. He couldn't help to think it was a tad peculiar that she was waiting for him, but then again, he was later than usual. He looked at his sister by the door. Her brown hair tossed itself into the gentle wind, her warm dark eyes — had they always looked so cold? So strange —

His vision swirled to black.

* * *

Asami sat with Itou as they discussed not only the shipment but the brothel as well. Itou was old and his business was successful. That was enough for the venomous man to make an offer.

"That is my final offer. The payment I will give you includes taking care of your granddaughter when you die or if she chooses to stay single."

"I need time to think about this still."

Asami scowled. This was now annoying him to no end. He was about to make a threat when the waitress came to their table.

"Itou, a man says he has valuable merchandise and that he will offer you a good price."

Itou thought for a moment. "I am busy at the moment...I guess a look can't hurt. Bring them in."

Itou was rather lucky Asami was a rather patient man. He would wait for this to be done.

The waitress scurried to the door to let the man in. He walked in with a familiar chestnut-haired man in his arms. Itou could not hide his shock. "Takaba?" he whispered unbelievably. He quickly regained his composure. "I am afraid I cannot buy this boy. Not enough space right now. Find someone else."

The seller wanted to argue, but with one look at Itou's eyes he knew there would be no deal. He sighed. He would have to travel to next town where-

"I'll take him." a voice calmly said.

The man turned towards the voice. "What's your price?"

It took a while for Takaba to get used his surroundings, for his blurry vision to focus. _'Where am I?'_

"An inn room."

Takaba turned quickly to put that now familiar voice to a face. "Asami" he murmured. Of course it was this man who had done this. Figures.

"Bastard, I'll get you for this..." Takaba had had enough. So he saw him do that shady business deal? So what? That gave the man no right to kidnap him.

"May I ask what exactly you will get me back for?", the dark-haired man amusingly asked.

Takaba was never known to keep his anger under control. How dare the son of a bitch smile at him now! "For kidnapping me you son of a bitch!" Takaba hollered. "Why huh? If you think you can molest _me_ — "

"Enough." Asami said. Takaba noticed the mood get serious and he capitulated to the command. "Contrary to your allegations, I did not kidnap you. I _bought_ you." Asami paused to allow his words to sink in. "You are mine and you _will_ obey me. You understand?"

Takaba chose to ignore Asami's words. "So you bought me? I will have you know that I am not a whore that can be — " Takaba stopped his tirade.

No.

No way.

She wouldn't.

_Please — _

"It seems it was your future brother in law. Said he needed to pay for the wedding. Your sister suggested — "

"_Stop it_!" Takaba closed his eyes and attempted to find a way to sink into the floor after shoving the bigger man away from him. "_Stop..._" he said quietly.

He didn't have to finish.

Takaba knew.

Everything seem to fade away into the distance at that moment. He felt so weak. So lost. Everyone he thought had loved him. So far away...

"Come here Takaba."

Maybe it was the starry night that caused Takaba to give himself to Asami that night. Maybe it was just loneliness. Or maybe it was the fact that though he barely knew this dangerous man, he felt closer to him wrapped in those strong arms than anyone before.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Asami and Takaba meet in a different time. AU. Un-beta'd.

Author's Note: It's been a long time...yeah sorry about that. I've had this chapter done for ages but my beta isn't replying so I'm just going to post on my own from now on if it takes too long. I personally don't think my editing is that terrible anyways. :P. And I was going to go over this again before I posted, but I seriously can't read over this again (read over like a billiion times) so if I made a mistake feel free (its encouraged) to message me. That'd be awesome. Thank you!

**A Saddening World **

Chapter 2: What a peony...

_What a peony..._

Demanding to be

measured

By my little fan!

-Issa

Takaba had always woken up early to meet the rising sun. For as long as he could remember he had been wrapped in his mother's arms, watching it ascend to it's lofty throne. His mother had always said that whenever the morning came upon you, you could always forget about the night, no matter how dimming it was.

But he hadn't forgotten.

Last night was fresh in his mind, and he could still feel the bruises on his skin. His bed partner was gone, but the memory remained, engrained in his head.

He could still feel the heat, the sweat from skin on skin, still hear his choaked moans as Asami tortured him to completion, the words whispered in his ear that he'd never forget.

_Mine._

"Get up."

Takaba didn't turn around. Maybe if he remained still enough, then the man would think he was still asleep.

He heard laughter behind him. "Don't test my patience. Get. _Up_."

_Nobles_, Takaba thought. They think they own everything when they don't know a thing. _Who did this man think he was?_ "Fuck you," Takaba mumbled and turned to his other side.

"Hmmh. Well at least you've admitted you've awake."

Takaba scowled at the man, like he had scowled at Hana when she had ever gone too far, but his stare wasn't very effective as it was on his sister and the man keep his damn smirk.

He was dressed more formally than the last time Takaba had seen him. Now not only did his demeanor give off the air of one who dined nightly with the emperor himself, but he was surely dressed for it. But Takaba didn't want to think about how good Asami looked, he didn't want to think about how heated his own clothes had now gotten, and he sure didn't Asami to know what he did to him. He looked away quickly and regretted soon after because it made him look as guilty as he was.

He looked back, hoping to save his pride and there Asami was staring right at him, unashamedly. He couldn't help the blood that rushed up his face.

That damned smirk grew wider.

Figuring Takaba had been tortured enough for one morning, Asami quicly retrieved his formal speech.

"We leave at noon," he said, acting as though Takaba had no option in the matter. "My men have packed your essentials. You will eat breakfast. You will bathe. Then you will wear the clothes one of my servants leaves you in the bathing room. All before noon and not a moment after. Am I understood?"

If there was one thing Takaba had never taken to, it was authority. He was not going to be bossed aroud by anyone, nor controlled. He knew the man had bought him last night, but he was going to find a way out of this. "Go to hell," Takaba said, "I'm not going to do _shit_. Just because you think you can fucking order me to-"

"Not think, I _can_."

Takaba stopped his tirade and just _stared. Was this guy stupid?_ "Look here Asami or whatever the fuck they call you, I don't care how much you paid for me, you cannot own _people_. At least not own me."

"Oh really?"

Then Takaba was crushed against a warm chest, and there were fingers in his hair and a rough voice in his ear. He moaned.

"Hmmh. You think you don't belong to me? You think you cannot be owned?" He pulled Takaba's hair, and Takaba bit his lip to keep silent from the sensation.

Takaba allowed himself to get lost in the moment, lost in the sounds of Asami's heartbeat.

"You can let you pretty little head think whatever it wants, but remember, Takaba, that your body knows who is really in control", Asami said, before stopping one moment to nip his ear. He received a moan for that, but Asami swallowed it quickly with a smoldering kiss. Afterwards he pulled back. He stood there, staring at him, looking, and Takaba had never felt more throughly owned, though he would never admit it. He ignored the tingling sensation he felt at the idea of it, looked at it as just a simple bodily reaction.

"You. Belong. To me."

_Mine. _

"Now, stop staring into space and _get up_."

* * *

He didn't try to think about Hana.

He knew it was cowardly, but he just couldn't deal with it. The one person he'd loved...he couldn't do that to himself.

But he couldn't deny the pain of her betrayal.

Even though he knew he should hate her more than anything, he could never find it in himself to even curse her in his head, even though he knew he should want to. He knew that if she had even looked at him once more, if he could see her bright brown eyes full of tears and her mouth full of whispers of regret, he'd take them, he'd take her back. He'd convince himself that selling him was only an act of desperation, that she hadn't wanted or it killed her to do, that she loved him-and he was worthy of it.

He felt sick. He felt used. He felt pathetic knowing that without her he was empty, a vast space, a hollow void.

Wasteland.

He'd given her everything. He'd given up everything for her. He'd become what he had for her sake. Even though he hated it. Even though looking at himself in the mirror made him sick. He...god _she_-

He heard someone approaching, and he saw the servant deposit robes.

Sensing he was done here, Takaba got out of the water slipping on the clean clothing.

He wouldn't look at leaving here in dread. He could finally leave his old self behind. He could finally pursue the dreams he never thought were at his disposal. He could lose Asami once he reached the capital. He could...start over.

As he left the bathing area, he thought of her once more. Her laughter, her smile, those brown engrossing eyes.

Yes, there was nothing left for him here.

Nothing.

* * *

Sitting at an inn desk near the window, Asami gazed at the blossoms that bloomed in the courtyard. He noticed the red flowers an inn worker had snipped for him laying on the table in a glass vase. They must have noticed how much he looked at them.

He had always liked flowers, ever since he was young. He hadn't known much about them, and he doesn't know very much still (he by all means lived by the sword) but even though he couldn't never understand them, he could appreciate them.

He used watch the woman in his village plant her garden, and he'd sneak a peek before chores and watch them in full blossom. He liked to watch her experienced hands gracefully snip each one off its pretty little stem like music, watch her place them skillfully, turn even ragged weeds into a exotic masterpiece. He'd seen paradise assembled in those wrinkled, knowing hands, and sometimes he would close his eyes and dream of fields of those flowers she seemed ever so fond of, those ones that he'd seen in all of her work, and he would lose himself in those simple moments.

Once, He'd been caught once watching her, his dirty feet in the air, hanging from a tall oak.

But he did not fear her. Even at a young age, he had understood that fear was only for the weakest sort of men.

He had looked right back, and she had given him a solid look, and as the young child he'd been he'd reckoned she'd peered into his soul.

The other villagers had always been wary of her because of it. They spoke of her husband and how he perished from her spell on the wedding night. They had concocted stories on why she had killed him and how she had made the body disapear into the night, his soul rising to the stars.

But it all stemmed from the same thing.

They believed in magic and spirits, and they could not overlook the eerieness of her demeanor. And so they left her to herself and she left them to their own devices, their own stories for why she lived all alone.

That day she had not told anyone about the small boy who watched her garden, and she carried on like she hadn't spotted him at all. Left him free to continue.

And then the war began.

They came for them in the dark of the night, the moon full, the ground laden with the snow.

There had been no time for flower watching then.

There had been no time for tales of magic and lore.

There had been no time for anyone to be left to anything, because there wasn't anyone left.

Except him.

The streets had spilled blood, and the dark red hue reminded him of the color of her flowers.

He'd watched the blood of his mother spread like a flame, staining, ruining the white, virgin snow in its path.

He'd cried no tears.

And when the smoke had cleared he'd traveled down that beaten road once more, and for the first and last time he had entered the garden.

She wasn't there.

She had been missing like the others, and he had cried his eyes out, cried for her like he'd cried for no other, weeped for her while his mother's body lay frozen and lifeless near the road. He's shed tears for someone he'd barely known, for a body that wasn't there, for a person he'd never see again, no matter how much he wished it, yearned for it.

He'd put those beloved flowers near the oak tree and for hours it seemed he had laid there enchanted, stuck in the moving pictures of tradgedy.

He'd sat there for hours, in awe of them, and it was almost sickly, disturbing how he looked at them, with a morbid fascination.

Flowers were such delicate things. They were full of life and blazed in color.

They were so easily broken, too quickly crushed. Weak.

He hated them.

And yet sometimes when he was by himself, and his chambers were cloaked in the shadows of night, sometimes when he'd close his eyes for a moment and just-_breathed_, the stench of thick smoke gracing his nose, inhaling, losing himself, falling; sometimes when he dropped into a place he was sure he'd left, deep in the recesses of mind there lay a flicker of thought that in the right moment he could believe.

Those flowers had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Message from the capital sir."

And as quick as the thought had come, as it always had, it slivered into nothingness once more and lost its vibrant hue.

"Read it," he said.

The soldier, a messenger Asami was familiar with, seems almost uncomfortable.

Bad news was a nuisance.

"It seems some of Feilong's armies have gone astray and found themselves near the eastern waterport." He fiddled with his cap in his hands, waiting for Asami's reply.

Hmm. The soldier didn't seen very convinced, and neither did Asami. Feilong was up to something.

"Have these soldiers been aprehended?"

Even though he was sure that the royal army was able to take care of something as trivial as that without his help, sometimes he couldn't really be sure. Most of the military leaders in the palace with foolish scholars who had never even laid one finger on a sword.

"Yes, sir. The emperor ordered it himself."

_If so then what does he need me for?, _Asami thought. "Is there a reason why my presence is needed?"

"Uhhh...no sir", the soldier swallowed, as though the words he was about to speak would make him sick. "He just asked that General Asami be warned of Feilong."

Asami smiled. "Well tell the Emperor I agree. I've never trusted Feilong with shit."

"I will...sir."

"Good."

As Asami sat contemplating this new development, thoughts of oaks and blossoms went into smoke.

* * *

"Can you ride?"

"Of course", Takaba answered. Every boy in the village, even the girls learned to at a young age. He may not be a warrior or a farmer, but riding a horse was an unspoken law in his small village.

The soldier shrugged and said no more. If the boys said he could ride, then he could ride. There was no point in arguing it. And to be honest, he had not wanted to. He had been traveling with Asami for months now, and he had a young son and a wife at the capital. He was looking forward to returning to them.

So without argument, he noiselessly gave Takaba the rein of a mare they'd gotten here while at the inn.

"She's yours", he said. "You can even keep her when you reach the capital. Might keep you company."

Takaba didn't respond. He just took the reins.

He hoped to not stay long wherever Asami was taking him. He had friends in the capital, and while he had not seem them in a long time, he hoped maybe they'd help him get out of this unwanted predicament.

But she was a pretty horse though. A warm, deep brown. She was getting rather old, but she could keep a good pace.

Realizing that Takaba had not been lying when he said he could properly ride a horse, the soldier smiled. "So you weren't lying."

Takaba huffed at that comment, and the soldier let out a hearty laugh. "Don't get your panties in a bunch! That was a compliment."

Takaba squinted his eyes, like a raccoon unsure if he was entering a hunting trap.

The soldier chuckled a bit more, than sighed. "The name is Kou." He held out his hand.

Takaba took it. "Takaba."

In the complex world of the capital, he'd need all the friends he could get.

* * *

Takaba took one good look once more at the village of his childhood. He gazed one last time at the fields, and he noticed the children playing by the river, the girls twisting blossoms into their hair.

He'd done this before.

He'd never thought he'd come back after he left for Shanghai, but Fate was the worst trickster.

Yet this felt different than the first time.

He knew he was never coming back.

So he soaked in the sun, and breathed in the smoke from a cooking fire close by, desperately trying to remember everything and hold it close, so even in the darkest moments he'd still have a bit of the morning sun.

He hadn't seen his parent's burial ground and he hadn't wanted to.

He didn't want them to see him like this. He didn't want to say his last goodbyes as what he was.

Owned.

He'd rather disappear without a word, as though he had never existed at all. So he would never have to think about how his mother would weep for him, or how his father would give him that look of utmost disappointment.

They didn't need that. And neither did he.

"Takaba?"

He didn't know what possessed him to come here, and he knew he wasn't wanted, but he couldn't let her end things like this. It would kill him. It already had.

"Hana," he said, a wee bit uncertain. She was looking at him intensely and he wavered under her harsh gaze. But he didn't mind it. It wasn't that cold, distant look she'd given him before. This one was..._confused._

"Why?" she said, her face in a tight scowl, the look she got when she was thinking really hard or when she was too astonished to speak. "Why are you here?"

_Because I had to_, he thought. "I just couldn't understand-"

"That I betrayed you?" Hana interrupted. "Sold you to a whore house? Left you there? That needs an _answer?"_

_"Yes. _Yes it does," Takaba answered. He had been clammy and the words had been stuck helplessly in his throat, but her interrogation seemed to give him the motive to speak, and those stuck words were now pouring from his throat.

She looked at him for a long time, as though she was looking for an escape but he stood firm.

After those long silent moments where they stand just looking at each-other, her body position relaxed and she sighed in defeat.

"Because I..."

He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear _her._

He could here it in her voice, and he lost himself in it, he drowned himself in memories of the flowers in her hair, the wicked laughter-it was all there, all _real_, like a forgotten memory bursting to the forefront.

He wasn't looking at her, but he could hear her.

He knew who this was.

"...I had to Akihito."

And in four words his world shattered.

_"Why?" _he croaked.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he could feel the moistness in his eyes, the trembling of his voice.

"_Why?" _he said once more, and he wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore, whether it was the gods or it was Hana but he had to _know._

He'd asked that question a hundred times after that night, but he still couldn't think of answer. _Had he been a terrible brother? Did she do it because she needed money? Did her fiancé force her, lie to her? _

_Had she ever cared at all? _

He couldn't stand it. Not knowing. And he knew he couldn't live with it, leave her without knowing why she had betrayed him like she had.

He deserved at least that.

He did.

He stumbled back like a drunk, no longer support himself. He was screaming at himself to get it together_ but what could he do? _

He was just a pile of broken pieces.

She watched him fall apart, but she didn't try to rescue what was left, as if she thought he wasn't worth saving. She sat there, looking at him making a fool of himself, looking at him while he seemed so weak, so utterly helpless. He felt humiliated, like a fool, and she just kept _staring._

She said nothing.

He hadn't expected her to really. He had just hoped that maybe-but he'd been wrong. He'd been wrong about everything. He wasn't even sure who she was anymore.

A ghost of his sister.

* * *

"Lets go."

As soon as the words were spoken, it was silent, except for sound of clamoring horses. Asami lead the pack, and he carried such a regal bearing that sometimes Takaba swore he was looking at the emperor. A bit of him hoped that Asami would look his way, hoped he could be beside him, but he put that thought quickly to rest.

If he lost himself in him, there would be no return.

Takaba broke out of his thought and held onto his reins tightly. Even though she had seen plenty of summers, the mare was enthusiastic, and Takaba reckoned she understood she was going to go home. He couldn't help but envy her.

He was losing all he had.

"Ow!" he shouted. Takaba turned around sharply, seeking his assailant.

"Got your head stuck in clouds?"

Takaba smiled, but he looked distant, lost in his own little world. "Maybe." he answered.

Kou ignored his aloofness and patted him on the back. "You're going to love the capital, Takaba. It's simply gorgeous. And you have to meet my family. My wife would love you."

"Really?" Takaba answered with a smile. "I'd really like that."

Kou grinned.

"But I'd warn you to be careful though, Kou", Takaba joked. "My heart-stopping good looks have dazed a lady or two-_Hey!"_

Kou had slapped him harshly on the back and sped up, moving past him.

"Hey! Get back here!" he said, clamoring to reach the soldier.

Leaving the only home he'd ever known.

It was dark when they reached the capital.

Takaba was exhausted. They had been on the path for days, with barely any rest, and he longed for a place to sleep. Even though it was tough, it had been enjoyable. Kou had made sure of that. He could not remember a moment where he hadn't been overtaken by laughter. And he needed that. Especially with what had happened in the last few days, with what would happen in the near future.

He hadn't spoken with Asami the entire trip, and it worried him. Why wouldn't it? The man who bought him, claimed he owned him, after one night, hadn't given him a passing glance.

At least not outwardly.

Sometimes, when Asami thought he wasn't looking, the man would just stare at him, so intensely that it unnerved him, and he feared him fall to pieces under his gaze. Sometimes, when it was dark, and it appeared as though he was fast asleep, he could feel someone watching him, and he didn't need to see that face to know who it was. It was Asami. It had to be. But it led him again to that same question.

_If I am yours, then why do you not claim me?_

It wasn't as though he wanted to be. Claimed or owned. It was just, it _just worried him_. If he lost the support of Asami or in some ways had angered him, he could have put himself in great danger. Danger, Takaba surmised, he was unable to afford.

As they approached the gate to the city, he casted his thoughts aside, waiting for the gates to unfold.

* * *

It was as beautiful as Kou had described it, and more so. Tall structures loomed over the large masses. Priceless treasures and exotic spices filled the market plaza. Takaba watched avidly as a merchant showed a large red ruby to a buyer, swearing it came off the royal scepter of royalty in the West. He had to dodge a couple of children who were scurrying through the streets, laughing heartily. There was dancing in the marketplace, and an exotic, voluptuous woman swayed to the slow melodic sound of a flute, handfuls of gold coins glittering in the air as they landed at her feet. It was too much to take in at once, and he had to close his eyes and just breathe it all in, the sights, the smells, the voices. He'd missed this, the warmth of a city. He never thought he'd have a chance to see all of this again.

When he opened his eyes, he swore Asami had been smirking at him, but his face was so cool and impassioned that Takaba could almost swear he imagined the entire thing.

After they had journeyed through the market, they stopped to pay their respects at the Temple.

It was a quiet encounter and people kept to themselves as they respects to the lost. The war had been devastating, and nearly everyone had lost someone. Takaba's father had lost his brother. Kou had lost his mother. One of the officers had lost his only son.

Blocking out those around him, Takaba closed his eyes once more, allowing the incense to enter him deep, and as he exhaled he opened them, watching the smoke reach the sky. He felt lifted, more relaxed than he had for a long time. Memories of his mother, his family, it didn't hurt as much anymore. It was though slowly but surely, he was being mended on the inside.

In the corner of his eye, he saw even Asami lay down some red flowers.

* * *

After some moments at the Temple which felt like they'd never end, they finally made it to the heart of the city, the palace.

Though Takaba had never seen it before, he'd recited poems that professed its glory.

He used to laugh as they'd said even the gods themselves envied the home of the mighty emperor, or how when the birds sang, they sang of its magnificent splendor.

They were all wrong.

It was more.

Beauty such as this couldn't be put into words, no matter how gifted the writer. It was indescribable how breath-taking the palace was.

"No wonder they say it is the stairway to the heavens," Takaba murmured to Kou, still caught up gazing at its walls.

Like hallowed ground.

Kou shrugged, but he did not disagree.

At the sound of Asami's call, the regiment stopped, allowing their commander to ride back to face his men.

"Good job, men," Asami told his soldiers. "The northern cities have been reinforced. Itou's cooperation has been confirmed. It's been a long journey, and I know that all of you are tired and hungry. I cannot promise you this will be the last campaign, but rest assured that this one has come to an end. So now, I bid you all to go back to your families in peace."

The men interrupted him to cheer and applaud.

Asami betrayed his stoic demeanor with a small smirk which was quickly hidden. "Carry on."

Takaba was trying to pay attention but Kou could not seem to keep off of him, making Takaba promise he'd see his family, telling him how excited he was to show him his little boy.

He was too occupied to notice Asami staring at him, with mild slight of disdain, looking at the encounter. "You there."

Heads turned around, soldiers wondering if their commander had called them.

Asami made himself more clear. "You there. By the _boy_."

"Whuh?" Kou sputtered.

Takaba watched with amusement how his friend's back straightened and he gave Asami his full attention. "Uh I mean 'Yes m'am!'" His address of his commanding officer as a women earned him some snickers from the crowd and Kou paled in horror at his error. "Sorry about that! I meant—I mean I mean 'Yes sir!""

If Asami had been paying some attention to Kou's reaction, he would have probably chuckled. Or more likely, he would have killed him on the spot for his mistake. Fortunately for Kou and unfortunately for Takaba, he hadn't given the soldier a passing glance. Asami was looking straight at him, clandestine no longer, fully taking him in with his eyes. Not breaking his gaze he told Kou, "Take the boy to his new quarters. He'll need clothing. The banquet is tonight."

"Banquet?" Takaba spoke up. "No one said anything about a banquet!"

But Asami only smiled and made his exit.

* * *

Asami was walking the corridors, heading towards his personal chambers when he got the message.

"The emperor sir," the soldier said. "He wishes to see you."

"Can it wait?" Asami asked. "Tell him I've had a long journey and I wish to rest, especially with the banquet taking place tonight."

The soldier gulped a bit, loathe to say his next words. "That cannot be arranged sir. The emperor has informed me that he requires your presence immediately."

The soldier was right to be fearful of Asami's reaction to that. He was teeming with anger, and he struggled to control it, struggled to keep his sword in his sheath and not slaughter the apprehensive messenger. He wasn't trying to make excuses. He had been traveling for months now, and he was weary. He was not ready to play a cat and mouse game with the foolish politicians who crawled at the emperor's feet. He did not want to stand there as they looked at him, judged him and his lineage. In the eyes of the palace elite, he knew he'd always be a stranger.

But Asami had for many years, and their harsh treatment of him had made him strong. He would not crumble now. He would do as he always had. Endure.

"Very well," Asami said. As he stormed off towards the throne room, the soldier scurried to keep up with him.

"Right this way sir," the soldier said, motioning and opening the door towards the emperor.

Asami ignored him and walked straight in.

If one thought the outside the palace was extravagant and well adorned, they had never seen the inside of the throne room. The entire space glittered in gold. Silk sheets and pretty whores draped the room, the emperor.

It was a masterpiece of decadence.

"Ryuuchi," a voice said.

He was an old man, that was undeniable, but he had aged well. He had grayed, and his face was solid. He was skinny, but he was firm, and his body spoke of once great power and strength.

This was the man who united the East.

"Sire," Asami said as he bowed to the voice, the man on the throne.

A twitch of the emperor's finger told him he was pleased with his humility, and he allowed himself to rise.

The emperor smiled.

He had been waiting for him. They all had. The entire court was seated, waiting for Asami's return. They whispered amongst themselves, avoiding his eyes. Worthless, all of them. Foolish gossipers, irritating sychophants, and vulgar hedonists.

All a waste.

"My favorite soldier, my prized general, my right hand," the emperor bellowed, mulling the court into silence. "Does there lay a man of greater courage, of noble bearing, of stauncher humility?" he continued. "Who else could rein in these fickle lands, put such fear into all those who beheld him? And today, I want all present to see how truly wonderful you are, how I trust you more than my own."

Then the court broke their silence, eating apart the new information. He saw a few envious glances come his direction. He knew people who would kill to have this attention from one of the most powerful men in the world, women who would fall on their knees to catch his eye.

"I am honored by your praise sire." Asami said simply.

The emperor beamed. "I'm overjoyed Ryuuichi, overjoyed. Come, walk with me to my chambers so we may talk in peace."

He followed.

* * *

"Sire—"

"Enough Ryuuichi. Feilong is another matter to be addressed at a later time."

He questioned the emperor's judgement, but he obeyed. "Yes sire."

The emperor laughed turning from the balcony. "You are so distrustful, General. But still, I won't deny he is a problem."

He looked Asami in the eyes.

"But he's my blood. My only son. And for that reason he must have some of my trust."

"Yes sire." Asami understood.

No matter what Feilong did in his past time, he was still the next in line for emperor. He could not relate to that feeling, because his family had never employed the same rules for him but he could respect them. The emperor was a good father.

If only Feilong was a good son.

The emperor turned to the balcony, gazing below at the greenery.

"I'd never realized how beautiful this garden was."

Asami stayed silent.

"Do you know, that my late wife, this was the only place where she was truly happy? I was too busy gaining conquests, starting campaigns, seizing entire countries on horseback that I left her and Feilong alone in the palace. And this was all she had, this garden and her son."

"When she passed into the next world—" the emperor hesitated, the memory itself hurting him— "I made a promise that I'd retain this garden, I'd retain and take care of the happiness I was never able to give her." He clutched the railing tightly. "And that's why—that's why I've yet to burn this garden to the _ground."_

He recognized that feeling of pure anguish, of utter loss. Without wanting to, Asami remembered the small boy crying in the snow, bloody fingers clutching redder flowers. When you had little to love, when what you'd loved was lost, it changed you for the worst. You turn empty.

The hollowness never heals.

The room was still and though words were left unsaid, they let silence speak the words of comfort they never be able to say.

"Ryuuichi." And the sudden peace that had come over the room was quickly hushed and broken.

"Yes sire?" Asami answered.

"I heard you found an entertainer from your travels. A musician."

He had not expected the news to travel so fast. But the people of the capital thrived on gossip.

He didn't like it.

He did not know yet what he was doing with the boy, but the idea of showing him to the world irked him.

Takaba belonged to him alone.

"Yes sire."

The emperor nodded in accordance. "You are a man of little words, Ryuuichi. But I am curious to see this little flower. Make sure he plays for me tonight."

"Yes sire."

The emperor chuckled to himself. "Maybe its music I need to forget this madness."

But when he turned around to ask Asami if he agreed, he realized the man already left the chambers.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author Note:_ _Hello! Been awhile. Sorry about that. But I've worked really hard and I hope you enjoy the chapter. It's rough on the edges right now, so if you want to read it beta'ed my amazing one **Midnight Monochrome** will be taming it as soon as she can. When she is done, I'll update with her version. But for now, like last chapter, you'll have to suffer with my bad editing. Enjoy!_

**A Saddening World**

_Chapter Three_

"And Dry my Dreaming"

Dead my old fine hopes

_and dry my dreaming_

but still...

Iris, blue each spring

~Shushiri

* * *

He had to escape.

How? Where? When?

It did not matter.

He knew he had to escape.

The longer he stayed at the palace, the more his future life became clear.

He'd be a prisoner behind these walls.

He'd be locked from normal society.

He'd be _stuck._

He had to escape.

The stakes had simply become too great and he was risking everything if he stayed.

So he must leave.

He had to go.

He had to escape.

Because if he remained here, in the palace, with Asami-then who would he _become?_

Takaba never wanted to find out.

* * *

Takaba eyed the rice fields he and Kou passed as they traveled to Kou's residence.

The farther they got from the palace and the closer to Kou's home, the more Takaba was reminded of his own. It was amazing how some place like the capital could have majestic structures that towered over the masses, and at the same time they could have quaint houses and humble villagers.

"I think those were the first words he's ever spoken to me! I nearly shit my pants!" Kou said.

Takaba laughed and butt Kou in the shoulder. "And I'm sure he really approved of being addressed as 'm'am?'"

Kou grimaced and turned pale.

"He could have killed me," he said. "He could have killed me for that. Calling him 'm'am' could have ended my_ life_."

"You overreacting," Takaba lied.

"Yeah, _sure..._" Kous said sarcastically.

Takaba paused for a brief moment, shrugged, and continued to follow Kou down the hallway.

"You know," Kou said, "You're better than I first thought. When I had learned that Asami had picked up some local I was expecting a whiny bitch. But you're not bad. Smaller boobs than I expected though-_Ow!_ What is _with_ you and _violence_? And I thought_ I_ was the soldier..."

"Think again", Takaba said slyly.

"Yeah, yeah", Kou replied. He grumbled under his breath, "Never saw Asami as a masochist but _now_..."

Even Takaba had to laughwhole heartily at that one. Kou smiled back.

"But on a serious note Takaba, what do you plan to do? I mean you're going to see my family today and my wife will help you get ready for the banquet, but as awful as this sounds, do you know what you're for?"

Takaba did not know how to reply.

He did not know about what Asami wanted from him.

The man was an enigma. First he's on top of him, crushing him, spreading his legs and opening him, filling, completing, and _drifting away_.

It was like the man was a bundle of feelings and thoughts all working individually, incoherent. It puzzled him, and Takaba was unsure of his own desires-except one.

He desired freedom above all things.

He'd always had. He'd fought with his father when he said he wanted to be a painter. Though he came from a family of entertainers, he sought to be in control of his own destiny. He sought to be free to do what he _loved._

But his dad had never seen art the same way he did, even as a musician.

His father's work was clear and methodical, uninspired. His teaching style was no different. Takaba would never forget his cold eyes and a tight lip, how'd he swatch him when he'd missed a single note.

_"You practice too little Akihito",_ he'd say. _"If you'd only get your head out of the clouds, maybe you could be great."_

Takaba did not dare to even draw around his father, even allow a drawing of his to reach his hands.

When he was around ten and was trying to copy the work he'd seen at the Spring Festival, emulate the graceful work of the traveler stroking cherry blossoms alive on dead paper, his father had caught him in the fields, huddled behind some trees. Dreaming. Drawing.

One second he was painting delicate flowers and the next he was holding air, his father looming over him, glaring at him.

He'd ripped the paper to shreds without one word. And afterwards, watching Takaba stand in shock, attempting to resist the tears which threatened to roll down his face, he said _"Do your chores and then return to your studies."_

As a young child he'd hated him for it.

But now, older and wiser, after taking care of Hana for so many years, Takaba understood his father better.

He thought that perphaps somewhere along the road of life, the magic had died. The spirit had been slowly squeezed out of him overtime, disappointments leaving him dry and hollow. Sometimes when Takaba had been practicing as he should he should, he played better than he did on most days. It was on those days, as he strummed the delicate strings that brought his father to bitter tears, he knew who his father was.

He was trapped.

He was empty.

He was_ dead._

And Takaba feared this disillusionment, he feared that hollowness, he feared that surrender.

And now, in the situation, now when everything he had ever had had now been taken away from him, now when his body now belonged to some stranger some man he knew so little about yet felt drawn to somehow, his freedom, the independence of his mind, that Takaba knew, was all he truly had left. If he lost _that_...

He did not want to waste away. He did not want stop trying. He did not want to become his _father._

"It doesn't matter." he said to Kou. _I won't abide to it anyways. _

* * *

They traveled swiftly to Kou's residence, hoping to make it there before dark.

The road to Kou's was rugged, unliked the paved ones of the city. Green plants sprouted from cobbled battered stones.

"It's a small town," Kou explained, "and few here own horses. But its space, Akihito. Refreshing space, my little heaven outside of the capital. You'll love it there."

Takaba nodded. He figured that anyplace outside of the capital, anyplace far away from _him _held promise.

When they entered the village, Kou stopped at a house near the rice fields. Before he could give Takaba instruction or fully step down from his horse, a pink bundle was suddenly in his arms, grasping him closely, and a women leaned on the rim of the house entrance.

"Papa!" the bundle said snuggling her face into her father's knee. The women in the house smiled.

Wrestling his daughter from his leg and putting her in his arms, Kou looked back at Takaba.

"Meet my family," he said.

"Papa! Sakura took my share!"

"Sakura! I said three for each of you! Not one for your brother and five for you!"

"But he's _smaller!_ He does not need as much _nourishment!"_

_"_He will if he expects to be a great soldier of the emperor one day, perhaps even protecting him right by his side. You on the other hand, could use less sweets. Gluttony is not good for either a lady's figure or her reputation."

Sakura scowled at her mother, obviously upset that she would not get her way. Even though she was positive that Hiro would not be able to finsih his share, he still whined about it and got her in trouble. Sometimes it made her want to cry.

Takaba smiled. Kou's kids were just too adorable.

"Here Sakura, you can have some of the candy Kou got for me. Happier now?"

Sakura stared wide-eyed at him, attempting to run away from existence by hiding behind her father. _Who was this man?_ She had never seen him around the city before, or at the Temple, or even around Mama and Papa. He even had funny colored hair.

But he was very pretty and very kind for offering her his treat, and those candies were so _good..._

As Kou's small daughter bolted from her father and snatched the treat from his open hands, Takaba couldn't hold back his laughter.

"Sakura! That's horribly rude!"

"No its fine," Takaba assured Kou's wife. "I offered it to her."

Kou smiled. Takaba did not realize how great of a guy he truly was. He hoped more than anything that Asami would understand this and take care of him the way he deserved. "Well the least you could do would be to say thank you to Takaba for his kindness wouldn't it Sakura?"

Sakura stared at her mother. Then she stared at her father. And staring at Takaba, she stuffed the candies in her mouth.

"Fank fu, sir."

Takaba grinned. "You're welcome."

Takaba was a little bummed to say the least. He had gotten obsessed about those candies while he studied at Chang'an, and when Kou picked some up on their way to the palace and had offered him some, he had been thrilled. But as he looked at the happy little girl who looked as though she had stuffed a small baby in her mouth, he knew the sacrifice was worth it.

When Sakura had scurried off to continue playing in the fields, the adults got back to business.

"It's getting late," Aya said, and it was still early but she could not help but notice the darkening sky. "Takaba, some palace servants had come and dropped some stuff off for you earlier today. If you follow me, I'll help you dress up for tonight."

"Today you said Aya? Was it even before we had arrived?"

Aya turned to her husband. "Yes, it was a couple hours before. Were you not aware of this?"

Kou scowled, deep in thought. "But how is that possible? Asami left the same time we had..."

"Maybe he sent a messenger," Takaba piped up. "We took many long rests on our way to the capital since you guys had been traveling for so long and you were tired and needed rest. Asami could have sent a messenger to tread swiftly towards the capital before us."

Shiko hummed in agreement. "That seems very possible, Kou. I think perhaps the General had simply sent a messenger before hand."

Though he could see the reasoning of both his wife and his friend, Kou continued because it just seemed a bit _odd_ to him. He knew that the General had been keeping a steady eye on Akihito, but he also knew that faraway look he'd had in his eyes. It was like he was not there the entire journey home. _And sending clothing?_ It did not seem like the General to do that. At least he had never coined him as one to randomly drop expensive gifts without a reason or without announcing himself. And that brought him to another question. "But how'd he know that you would be here?"

Takaba shrugged._ Who was he to know the strange ways of Asami?_ "To be honest, he had been watching me the entire journey here. And I've been right by your side the entire time. He probably figured since we had become friends so quickly and were talking so much that I would be here at your residence. Don't think too much of it, Kou. He's...he's like that." _Weird._

Though something told him something strange was indeed going on, Kou kept his doubt down and swallowed it. "Perhaps you both are right. No matter."

Aya smiled, happy that she and Takaba were able to convince her husband. "Well now that that is in order, follow me Takaba. Let's get you ready."

Takaba followed Aya down the hallway.

* * *

"Kou has yet to tell me much about you, so I thought I'd go to the root of the spring." Aya smiled.

Takaba sat in awe for a moment. Aya was really beautiful. She reminded him of the girls that all the men swooned over in his village. Delicate faces, but strong personalities. He was happy for Kou. "Me? I'm from a rather small village near the mountains that lies on the path towards the capital. I work as an entertainer at the village inn. Since we are the only town for miles on the path towards the capital, we get a lot of travelers, so the place can be rather busy."

"An entertainer? How interesting? Do you sing? Do you play?"

"Umm, I think it'd be best if you did not hear me sing," Takaba said. "I'm afraid you'd probably lose a lot of respect for me."

"I'm sure your better than me. My parents wanted me to be a little singing flower to catch a rich husband so I studied with a vocal teacher. Let's just say that my vocal teacher, after just a few hours with me, intervened and told my parent's their dreams were hopeless."

Takaba laughed. "Yeah mine too! My mom was a brilliant singer so my dad hoped that I would inherit her gift of song. But only my-"

Takaba paused for a moment, briefly considering to end the conversation so he would not have to talk about her. But he trudged on. She was in the past. She was in still in the village. And him? He was here now. "My sister...it was only my sister, who could sing."

"Hmm", mumbled Aya, "that's interesting. Maybe she can visit and sing for us one day."

"I doubt it, but it's fine." Takaba said gloomily. Yet, noticing the change in mood, he fought to retain the cheerful atmosphere. "I can play for you though."

Aya smiled. "I'd like that. And we seriously need to get you dressed..."

"Right, right", Takaba agreed. "So what did those palace servants drop off?"

"It right over here," Aya said, reaching inside a dark maple cabinet. "It's beautiful isn't it? I have rose-colored robes that have been passed through my family for ages, but I have never held something like this up close."

Takaba surveyed what he would be wearing for the evening.

Aya was right. He could not remember seeing-even if he ever had-something so brilliant, so blazed in awesome color. He stroked the red sleeve in wonder. Silk with peonies in embrodied gold. The only word he could use to describe it was majestic.

At least Asami would not have him embroidered in rags.

"Yes...it really is very beautiful."

Aya flushed in excitement. "And it'll match you perfectly, you just wait!"

From there they entered the complicated process of dress. First there was bathing. Then hair brushing. Then Aya doused him in numerous perfumes and spices. Takaba had never been through such complicated preparation, and he had even asked Aya if this ordinary procedure.

"My mother worked in the palace all her life Akihito," she said. "I won't say it is perfectly common, but for a emperor's banquet it is most definitely expected."

Takaba nodded, and returned to his head.

Even while he was off in Chang'an, he'd never been to a banquet before. Poor art students were too busy serving their masters to delight in festivities taking place in the city. He did remember painting a few scenes during the moon festival though with his teacher.

"Even strokes, Akihito", his master would say. "You are always so eager that you forget the importance of smooth, careful strokes".

He couldn't help his impatience then. It was like he knew he would not have much time there. He wanted to capture everything as it was then, so when he was forced away from this place he would always have these moments, these memories.

He had been wise. The next day he got the message his mother had passed away.

But that was then, and here he was, in the now. Sitting in a small cottage in a smaller village, dressing up for a banquet that hosted a world beyond his own. It's hard not to be eager when the world was rushing past you. If he was patient, if he was still-he was sure everything would waste away.

As Aya continued to prepare him for the evening, he nursed dreams of finding his way out soon.

* * *

"Welcome back, master."

Asami nodded to the servant outside his door, and then proceeded to enter his own chambers. He decided he would have some wine and then catch some much deserved sleep. He could not remember being off a battlefield, and he reckoned his bed would bring him much needed peace.

As he closed his door, he removed his sword from its hilt. He was then made aware of the man in his chambers.

"Is this how you welcome a guest, Ryuuichi? I had always reckoned you'd have more manners. I guess you can't take the village boy out of a soldier as I had once thought."

"You're not a guest," Asami said slowly and clearly. "And you are not welcome here."

"Really now? Now that is a surprise. I was only once your favorite guest."

"Enough, Feilong. I have told you are not welcome here any longer."

Feilong just stared at him. Asami remembered when that face had consumed him, those features had haunted his dreams. But all he saw now was just a man. He could see in Feilong's eyes that he longed for that passion to return, for the heat to resurface, but all his feelings had dried and withered.

Feilong took his hand gently, looking him dead in the eyes. He ran his fingers over his face as though he was trying to help him remember.

And he did.

But all he felt now was the coldness.

"I'm sorry," he said, running his fingers in Feilong's hair. He didn't flinch when his hand was quickly slapped away.

Feilong finally backed off from him, a smile on his face. "No, Ryuuichi. You're not."

Before Asami could find the words to answer, Feilong was gone.

* * *

"Are you guys ready? The banquet is going to begin soon! I need to get Akihito over there before my commander has my head!"

"Relax Kou!" said Aya. "We're finished here." She straightened his sash once more. "You really do look wonderful, Akihito," she said softly, a smile on her face.

Takaba smiled back shyly. Her tenderness reminded him of his mother.

"Thank you," he said. "I don't think I'd have been able to get ready without you."

She laughed. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have."

Kou busted into the room, taking notice of Takaba's dress. "Wow Akihito! If I didn't know you, I'd swear you were born in the palace, complete with the silver spoon stuck in your ass."

"Oh shut up Kou."

"You love me."

"No, _I_ do." Aya said. Kou pecked her on the cheek. "Now hurry off you guys before you are late."

"Are the kids around? Can I say goodbye to them?"

"They're off with friends right now Kou. They'll be here when you come back."

"You promise?" Kou asked, holding her close.

She cradled the back of his head, pulling him into a deeper embrace. "Yes. It's a promise", she answered.

It was times like this that Takaba realized that no matter how well they got along with eachother, he and Kou were entirely two different people. Kou's heart was rooted here, here with his family. As much as Kou never wanted to leave, Takaba wanted to go. He knew he could not find peace here, even here with Kou and Shika and the children.

He didn't belong here.

He didn't belong at the palace.

He had never belonged at home.

He could not fight the restlessness that overtook his soul, that clouded his mind. To deny he wanted to escape would be denying the core of his being.

He knew he did not belong here.

He just feared he wouldn't belong anywhere.

* * *

He left Kou by the gate to enter the palace.

A tight-lipped old women looked him over at the entrance. She squeezed his cheeks, looking into his eyes. Takaba tried to stay still but her inspection was rather uncomfortable. After some more creepy groping, she finally let him go with a "He'll do".

"I'll _do_? What the fuck does that mean?" Takaba shouted, as two soldiers escorted him towards the banquet room.

He didn't get an answer.

After the rather unfortunate experience at the entrance, he was escorted down numerous hallways, pushed through a multitude of doors. The palace, as beautiful as it was, was a labyrinth-like structure. At one time he would have admired it for that, but all he could really think about in his head was that that meant it would be impossible for him to navigate his way out.

"We're here," one of them said to him. He looked up at the large golden doors as they unfolded.

Extravagance, Takaba surmised, was something he had never been aquainted with before.

He had never seen such a spacious room before, expecially not one draped in gold.

He had never seen the silk with such deep hues, draped until millions of folds cascaded to the floor.

He was sure he had never seen this much food in his life, or these types of foods and spices.

It was all so unfamiliar to him, so strange. And though he was dressed as well as the other aristocrats in the room, he wasn't one of them.

He had never felt more like an outsider as he did right now.

He wanted to hide himself. He wanted to fade into the crowd, to be forgotten in the masses. But there was a hand on his shoulder, and it was dragging him through a hallway, pulling him to the stage. It was putting an erhu in his hand, and it was commanding him to play.

Never had he felt so alone, so restless. He longed for somewhere, anywhere that was not here, but here he was, trapped, caged in palace doors, held captive by the attention of the audience. All he could do was find solace in the strings, cling to music, hoping here he would find his answers.

He had not played this song for a long time.

It was a love letter to spring, a song of rebirth and newness.

It was the song his mom hummed to him at bedtime.

It was the sound of the whistling of the trees, melody of the landing of the blossoms.

It was the rush of the brook, the tune of the rabbit scampering through the bushes.

It was a song he hated.

It was the song that first brought his father to tears, and after years and years of playing it, he understood why.

It was the anthem of the dreamer. It represented a spirit that would never be broken, a song that would never be unsung.

And it made him angry because it was only _art._

It knew nothing of the world. It knew nothing of loneliness, of humiliation, of failure.

It knew nothing of loss, of pain, of disapointment.

_Who was it to sing of dreams, when it knew nothing of being a dreamer?_

Its tune did not bear the burden of life, it was not scourged by reality.

It was as pure and free as the peace it sung of, and Takaba craved that peace.

He ran through the song, playing it with a skill he had never had before, looking for it, searching, _searching_-

He was awakened by applause.

Takaba looked at his bow, at his trembling hands.

It was then he realized that that peace was not his to have. And his despair brought him bitter tears.

* * *

Asami remembered the first time he had seen the glowing globes of the festival.

He remembered the first time he heard the music, seen the people bustling through the stalls.

He remembered the seeing the children laughing, watching the performers.

The festival was always a joyful affair for the city. He reckoned he would have enjoyed it when he was younger.

But by the time he had reached the capital, he had lost all innocence.

His childhood memories were stained in blood.

A hand on his shoulder paused his train of thought. "Wonderful isn't it, Ryuuichi?", the emperor said, looking over the balcony. "It is nice to see the villagers enjoying themselves."

Asami silently nodded. He would try to say as little as possible. He was not interested in entertaining a conversation with him. More so, he would rather wait for the boy's arrival.

"You seem out of it Ryuuichi. Perhaps I should leave you to your own thoughts?"

Asami sighed. "I'm sorry, emperor. I just have a lot of things on my mind right now I-"

"I understand, Ryuuichi. This old man's presence is not the one you seek in the moment. Take some time, look at the crowds. Enjoy yourself. You need it."

Patting his shoulder one final time, the emperor took his leave to mingle with other guests. _Enjoy himself huh?_ If only he knew how.

It was a fact he dealt with everyday, one he knew the moment his battle victories brought him into the capital, that he didn't belong here. He was jaded, tainted by the moving pictures of war. The people here knew nothing of piles of bodies strewn on fresh green grass. They knew nothing of the thrill of the kill, the feeling of one's sword passing through living flesh. He only found comfort on horseback, and while some may deem him therefore a born warrior, to him, it was simply a fact of life. Resting, still on this balcony, watching people bustle by, was not for him. He loved power, but he found such behavior unbearably boring. Sometimes he wondered how the emperor, a man who united the East, could have left it all for the refuge of the palace. But he guesses the death of a love one could have changed anyone.

But none of that mattered right now because he could see a shadow in his peripheral.

He turned.

"Shen."

"Ryuuichi."

Shen was a man of smaller stature, but Asami knew first hand what the man could do on a battlefield. He had seen him cut down enemy soldiers with lightning precision. So yes, he was small, yet strong. But the thing Asami could not understand was _what his old army friend was doing getting his attention?_

"What are you doing here, old friend?", Asami called out to him. "Last time I checked, you had joined Feilong's ranks. You must be aware of the danger you are in, speaking to me here."

As he spoke he moved farther away from the doorway leading to the dining hall, and farther towards the blindspot where Shen stood.

"I would not come and find you Ryuuichi unless my presence was in your best interests," Shen replied. "I need to talk to you about Feilong."

Asami had been paying attention but he instantly clued in on the emperor's son's name. His eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

"I know you are well aware that his loyalties to the empire need to be questioned, and I am here to tell you that you are_ right_."

"I knew I was already, Shen.", Asami answered. "I did not need you here risking your life to confirm my knowledge."

Shen nodded in agreement. "I understand, and I think I started this conversation off wrong. It's not really about Feilong, Ryuuichi. It's about _you. _There is a spy in your ranks."

"Impossible," Asami said, writing off the soldier completely. "My men are entirely loyal."

Asami actually believed some loyalties could be questioned, but he did not want to reveal such information concerning his forces. Shen was still in Feilong's forces and war-buddy or not, he would not divulge such information.

"Your beliefs do not matter. What I am telling you is that there is a spy and he has been giving up your armies' location for a while now. Feilong knows you were not on the joyride around the empire that you told the emperor you were on. He knows that you were looking for us. He knows you were trying to find out what he is up to."

"Right. From the _spy_."

Shen punched the palace stone with his fist in frustration. "_Yes!_ From the _spy_! How _else_ do you think we knew about the boy?"

The mention of the boy set Asami off. He shoved the smaller man into the wall and began whispering hurriedly into his ear. "The boy is mine, Shen. He has nothing to do with the emperor, with Feilong, or with _anyone_. The boy belongs to _me_."

He let the man go after that, allowing him to catch his breath.

"You may believe that Ryuuichi," Shen said, "but I've seen that boy before. I've looked him the eyes. They are not the eyes of one who is owned. There are the ones of someone waiting to strike, like a tiger who waits to patiently make his move. He will not be easily subdued. He is a flight risk. He's _dangerous_. His mere presence is poisoning you, my friend. You're losing focus. He'll _destroy you_."

"What he does or what he does not is of my concern alone, Shen. Not yours. We're done here." He did not need to explain himself to his old friend, nor would he miss the boy's entrance. He had told Kou that he needed to be here around this time, and he was sure he was already there, lost in the politicians and nobles. Drowning and waiting for him.

But as he turned to leave, he heard a sword being drawn from its sheath.

"I did not want to do this old friend, but you left me no choice. You will not listen to reason. Now I must do what I must."

It all happened in a few short moments like chorographed moves from a eerie dance. In seconds, his sword was out, parrying an attack from Shen's blade. And then, in the next measure, he was floating effortlessly into his own offense blow, hot liquid splattering his cheek as his sword fell deeper into Shen's chest. For a long minute, all that could be heard was the sound of his sword being pulled out from Shen's body. The fatally wounded man with great difficulty moved himself, resting on the palace stone.

Asami noted that he could hear music playing in the hall.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," he said. "You know this was not what I wanted, as I know this was not what you desired either. And for that, Feilong will pay. Rest assured I will find what he is up to and I will avenge your death. But I will not give up the boy."

The music was louder now, and the music reminded Asami of his childhood. It reminded him of flowers and happy faces that were no more. For once the bloody sonata in his head ceased and the air was full of sweet beautiful music.

"Find peace, my friend," he whispered. "Your troubles are over now. Go to sleep. _Rest_." He hovered his hands over his friends eyes, and with rarely seen tenderness, he closed them.

He wanted to find the boy. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to touch him. Dirty him. Break him into such small pieces that he'd be the only one who would be able to put him back together.

But he had to get rid of the body.

Clean his sword.

Find the spy.

Find Feilong.

So he rested his dreams of the boy, and continued to live his nightmare.

* * *

"_Amazing!_ Simply _amazing_ young man!"

Takaba looked at the elderly man, bowing once the man's assistant had informed him that he was the emperor. "Thank you for your compliment, your majesty."

He reckoned his dad would be estatic knowing that his lowly son had just played for the emperor, but Takaba wanted nothing to do with the man, with anyone.

Playing that song had brought a lot of emotions up to the surface, emotions he needed time to wrestle back down. He simply could not handle people right now, and he needed time to himself.

But the old man rambled on.

"I can't believe Asami did not inform me that such a talented young man had been found on his travels. I'm glad my men had informed me of you. You could not possibly know this, but my late wife was fond of that song. She'd-"

"Hum it while she attended the garden, right Father?" Takaba was surprised to see this long-haired man jump into the conversation, but as he looked the face of the emperor and those around him, his astonishment seemed understated.

"You'll have to excuse me Father. I am dying to learn more about this new musical talent." And suddenly Takaba found himself shuffled away from the crowds to a more secluded hallway by a soldier.

It much darker now, and hall was painted with moonlight. White blossoms in nearby bushes glowed. It suited the beauty of the man before him.

Takaba had never seen a woman let alone a man, more beautiful, and as an artist, he could appreciate his lines and planes. His face was perfectly formed, and his skin glowed like the flowers over the ledge. His lips were full and his hair was dark, long, and silky. He looked more like a porcelain doll than a man. Yet this man was anything but delicate. The calluses on his hand spoke of someone who knew his way around a sword.

"I must say, Akihito, that in this moonlight, you look _amazing_. I knew you would look wonderful in red."

Takaba recalled Kou's suspicion about the dropped off robes. "It was you," Takaba said as it all became so very clear. "You were the one who sent them."

Feilong smiled, but the smile was undeniably fox-like. "Of course I did, Akihito. Who did you think had? Your precious _Asami_?"

No. This could not be happening. "What the fuck is going on?" Takaba asked, his suspicion undeniable. "Why are you bothering me, following me?"

Feilong didn't answer. "You feel as though you don't belong here, don't you?"

He was quiet. Somehow things always sounded worse when they were said out loud.

Feilong laughed. "It's okay. You _don't. _Belong here I mean."

Takaba clenched his teeth, and stance was going on the defensive, but the long-haired man ignored it.

"And I can get you out."

Out. Escape. _Freedom._ It was he had ever wanted and there it was, sitting on his doorstep, resting in his fingers. It was just too good to be true. Takaba could not figure out what the man had to gain from his disappearance, and that fact put him at unease.

"You're lying," Takaba said. "And what would you even gain from helping me?"

Feilong sighed, "I am not going to gripe on about how I am one for liberating useless servants," he quietly said, sarcasm lacing his voice-"but I will say I do nothing without benefit to myself. I can see no reason therefore, why'd I'd act out of character now."

He looked Takaba in the eyes, gouging his comprehension. "Is that enough for you?"

Takaba thought to himself for a moment. He knew nothing about this man. He'd never seen him in his life. But he was promising an opportunity he'd been searching for, longing for. And all he had to do was say yes.

But his eyes were cold.

His face was undefinable.

His intentions were unclear.

He was a stranger.

Maybe if this man had asked him to join him, to let him help him escape before the performance, he would have said yes. But after it, Takaba was now seeing that maybe the time was not ripe, like his master had always instructed.

Smooth even strokes.

This would be impulsive, and the lines on this certain page already ran crooked.

If doors have been closed, it is wise to wait for the next perfect opportunity to reopen them, not to hammer at a door that is fixed and shut.

He'd have his time, because he'd never stop thirsting for freedom, but it would be the right one, on his time table, not on one that someone else, especially a stranger had decided.

"No," Takaba said. "It isn't."

Feilong at least seemed pleasantly surprised at his answer, but he quickly dropped it, taking refuge in laughter. "You are certainly an enigma, Takaba Akihito."

So it was over. It was done. The emperor's assistant had told him where his room was. After such a long, adventurous day, he just wanted to go to sleep. He turned to make his exit, but Feilong's two men stopped him from leaving.

"Though you answer is noted, truthfully, whether you think what I've told you is enough for you to leave does not matter. I do only things for my benefit, Akihito, and as I have said, it benefits me that you leave. And so no one," he paused as he came closer to him, "stops me for doing what I want." He grabbed Takaba's hair and he tried to holdback a cry of pain. "Not even Ryuuichi's little _whore_."

As the hand in his hair forced Takaba to look in Feilong's eyes, Feilong's other hand caressed his face curiously, trying to see what Asami saw in him, trying to see what the dumb bitch was worth. But he saw nothing.

Just another useless pretty face.

"Tonight in your room," he instructed the boy, "a man will come and knock at the door exactly four times. Open it and follow him. He is the means of your escape."

"What if don't?" Takaba snarled. "What then?"

The smirk Feilong wore made his blood run cold. "It seems you have forgotten that I knew exactly where to deposit that robe. It's a pretty red." He let his gaze travel over Takaba's face. "But I can make redder hues flow on that doorstep."

He couldn't imagine it, or at least he did not want to. He did not want to see Kou, amazing Kou, walk up to his door and see his house is painted in blood. He did not want to think about how defeated Aya would feel, how sorry she would be that she broke her promise, that she and the children would be there waiting for him. They did not deserve it. Takaba had nowhere to reside, nowhere to belong. And the thought he would do the same to Kou, who he was sure right now was his only friend, made him die a little inside. Even if he could not share in Kou's home, he'd protect it.

"Am I understood?" Feilong asked.

"Yes."

* * *

His wife had always loved the stars. She had told him once that whenever he went on another campaign, she always knew he'd be alright, because the stars would watch over him. He only wished that he too could have done the same, just so maybe they could have kept her safe.

Nevertheless, he feels her nuturing, gracing presence in them, and they soothe his mind and clear his soul.

He paused his thoughts to choke out more blood into the silver basin, and he can see his reflection being cloudied by the murky liquid. Huan holds his head, slowly massaging his back as he dumps more of his insides into the container. He used to feel invincible, all-powerful. He felt that he could do more than unite the East, he believed once that he'd conquer the world. But age has taught him he is just a man. He'd searched for immortality as a youth, but the gods had never blessed him with such a gift. So he grew more withered and closer to death each day.

"You cannot keep the secret of your illness much longer your majesty," Huan informed him. "The sickness is spreading. You will be bedridden soon."

The emperor raised his hand to tell Huan he had been heard, but he should stop speaking.

He knew he could not hide it any longer. Everyday he grew weaker and weaker. Pale and more pale. Tons of medicine and a happy deposition would not mask his sickness any longer. But he feared what would happen if his illness was made known. He and and the empire he had forged with his two hands were not ready to be under Feilong's rule. He loved his son, but he could see the falseness in his smile, the darkness in his eyes. He hoped he could soothe that anger, but that would take time. And looking at the blood filled basin, he did not have much time left.

Huan had been by his side since his first campaign. He was practiced healer and a nobler companion. "I am sorry my friend for my rudeness, but you must understand my situation. No one can know that I am dying, Huan. Absolutely no one. You have done well to keep my secret, and I beg you to continue."

Huan nodded. "I will tell no one your majesty."

The words relieved his worry. "Good, Huan, good." He looked to the stars, hoping to see her face there. Only that image could bring him comfort.

He'd be with her soon.

"Because I fear Huan, that if anyone finds out, the unity of this entire empire could be at stake."

* * *

It had always been what he had wanted wasn't it? He was finally going to be free. He could return to Chang'an. He could see his master again. He could be free to paint and be in his element.

He tried to comfort himself this way, but he could not hide his fear, at least not to himself. He does not know where he will be taken. He does not know when. Hell, he really still does not know even why. Feilong said his departure was in his best interests but he could not see how this was possible. He had not laid eyes on the man except for earlier tonight. But the man knew his name. He knew where Kou lived. He was putting Aya and the children in danger so he would leave this place.

It had always been what he had wanted but his greatest dream had become his worse nightmare.

And he was facing it all alone. Just like earlier tonight.

Asami.

He had said he belonged to him. He had talked a big talk, and had put him in this place, in this palace. But where was he huh? Where was the great Asami? Where was this legendary commander?

Nowhere.

Takaba held himself close.

It's a shame though really.

He'd really nursed a thought he'd be here.

And so he waited. For how long? He did not know.

He just knew that the seconds felt like minutes, the minutes hours, the hours like eternity.

He kept replaying Kou and his departure in his head. If only he had listened to Kou, realized how strange it was that the robe was just sitting there.

Knock.

_"But how'd he know that you would be here?" _

_Takaba shrugged. Who was he to know the strange ways of Asami? "To be honest, he had been watching me the entire journey here. And I've been right by your side the entire time. He probably figured since we had become friends so quickly and were talking so much that I would be here at your residence. Don't think too much of it, Kou. He's...he's like that." Weird._

_Though something told him something strange was indeed going on, Kou kept his doubt down and swallowed it. "Perhaps you both are right. No matter."_

_Aya smiled, happy that she and Takaba were able to convince her husband. "Well now that that is in order, follow me Takaba. Let's get you ready."_

Knock.

_"Sakura! That's horribly rude!"_

_"No its fine," Takaba assured Kou's wife. "I offered it to her."_

_Kou smiled. Takaba did not realize how great of a guy he truly was. He hoped more than anything that Asami would understand this and take care of him the way he deserved. "Well the least you could do would be to say thank you to Takaba for his kindness wouldn't it Sakura?"_

_Sakura stared at her mother. Then she stared at her father. And staring at Takaba, she stuffed the candies in her mouth. "Fank fu, sir."_

_Takaba grinned. "Your welcome."_

Knock.

_"Are the kids around? Can I say goodbye to them?"_

_"They're off with friends right now Kou. They'll be here when you come back."_

_"You promise?" Kou asked, holding her close._

_She cradled the back of his head, pulling him into a deeper embrace. "Yes. It's a promise", she answered._

Knock.

Takaba opened the door. _They're going to be there waiting for you Kou,_ he thought.

_I promise._

Takaba did not know what to expect when he opened the door as Feilong instructed, but he could not say he ever expected to see the shimmer of a blade posed at his throat.

The man held him from behind, with such skilled technique he did not even see his face. He pulled him slowly out of the room, whispering in his ear.

_"Did you really think he would let you escape?"_ he hissed. _"That'd he keep a troublesome whore like you alive?"_

Takaba could feel the blade descending into his flesh and he knew it was it. He closed his eyes, trying to picture his mother, his family. If he was going to die this death, his was not going to let the cold palace floor be the last things his eyes would see. He even thought of his father, of practicing his erhu, painting in the meadow, _if he could just remember-_

He felt hot liquid pour down his neck, and the weight of a body falling to his feet.

He opened his eyes.

Asami.

"Asami," he said, his eyes blown open, unable to take in the presence of the man.

"Asami," he whispered once more, as the taller man grabbed his hair and pulled him close.

And then he had no words. He was just a bundle of emotions and senses. He could barely register what the man was telling him.

All he knew was that he was alive.

"How dare you," Asami snarled, pulling off his robe. He moaned as the general touched his chest, nuzzled his neck.

He whimpered as the caress turned to pain, as his felt his teeth fall into skin. He felt his other hand wander away from his chest to between his legs.

He can't breathe. He's lost in the sensation, and he feels like his entire body is on edge. He's never felt so out of control.

He was falling apart.

* * *

"You belong to me," Asami had told him, but he couldn't hear it. He was too distracted by feeling of fullness, the pillaging of his prostate.

"You're mine Akihito," he repeated, his sweat dripping off his face. "You can never leave. I'll always find you- catch you."

It was all too much.

His voice broke and his vision went white.

But he had heard what Asami has whispered to him, as he shattered into pieces.

The words would haunt him when he woke.

_You can never escape_.


End file.
